"Just for an hour or so," said Jerret. "I want to get some food. I didn't eat enough at dinner."
"Certainly," said Jerret, hurrying out of the room.
***
Once Jerret was in the hall, he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt persecuted by Lannon and Aldreya, misunderstood. He thought Aldreya was beautiful, but her heart seemed frozen. Because he couldn't understand Birlotes, he found himself experiencing a growing dislike toward them, but he felt that if he could get Aldreya to shed the icy armor that seemed to cover her from head to toe it might restore his faith in the Tree Dwellers. And Lannon, in spite of his Eye of Divinity, seemed clueless about Jerret's true personality. Jerret was deeply saddened by what had happened to Vorden, but because he was inept at expressing it, Lannon wrote him off as an annoying Squire who only cared about himself.
Shennen and Willan stood guard. Blue Knights always struck fear in Jerret's heart. He knew they were assassins who could kill in the blink of an eye, striking unseen from the shadows. They usually wore blue or black outfits, with only a bit of lightweight armor, so they could sneak around and hide themselves more easily. Jerret hated the East Tower because it was filled with Blue Knights and Birlote sorcerers. It seemed like one huge death trap.
But something even more disturbing nagged at him. He could hear whispers, which he immediately realized were only in his mind. The whispers were so faint he couldn't tell if it was a male or female voice or what any of the words were. He wondered if the strain he'd been under recently, and the constant fear, was getting the best of him. That was the troubled aura Jace had noticed.
"I'm off to get some food," Jerret told the guards. "Is that okay?"
Willan said nothing, but Shennen approached him and looked him up and down. "You will be subject to a search when you return."
"A search?" Jerret said in disbelief. "Who ordered that?"
"I have ordered it," said Shennen. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I am the highest ranking Blue Knight in Dremlock right now, and with Taris at the Hall of Healing, I am the Master of this Tower. Is that understood, young Squire?"
"Yes, perfectly," said Jerret. "I just want some food."
Shennen stood motionless for a moment, a shadow in the hall, while Jerret fidgeted nervously. At last Shennen said, "Willan, you will accompany Jerret to the Dining Hall."
"Of course, Master Shennen," said Willan.
"It's not really necessary," said Jerret, chills creeping over his flesh at the thought of a Blue Knight walking beside him. "I'm just going straight there to eat, and then coming straight back."
Shennen said nothing.
"So…is it okay if I go alone?" Jerret asked.
Shennen stood as still as a statue.
Fearing he was pushing the Blue Knight too far, Jerret hurried to the stairs. He was about halfway down them when he realized that Willan was behind him, moving silently down the stone steps. Jerret cringed and kept moving.
The Dining Hall was empty save for a chunky, bald-headed Orange Squire named Breld Shieldbreaker who, in spite of his heroic Knightly last name, was doomed to spend his days at Dremlock making sure everyone was well fed. And Breld never seemed to get over the fact that he would never be a Knight. He complained endlessly about how he at least deserved the rank of Brown.
"Greetings," he said to Jerret and the Blue Knight, as he was prying open a crate. "Is there anything I can help you fellows with?"
"Some leftovers from dinner," said Jerret. "And a bowl of rice pudding."
"I'm all out of rice pudding," said Breld. "I've got stew, but it's cold. I can heat you some if you'd like. And what about you, Willan?"
"I'm not hungry," said Willan. "But I'll have a mug of ale."
"A bowl of stew and a mug of ale-coming right up," said Breld. Whistling a merry tune, he disappeared into the kitchen.
The whispers grew more frantic in Jerret's mind-a voice commanding him to flee the tower. He slumped against the wall, clutching his head and struggling to fight off the whispers. And he was winning the fight. The whispers couldn't claim him from a distance if he resisted. He knew the voice of the Deep Shadow could only claim someone if they allowed it. He'd been taught that by his parents long before coming to Dremlock. But who was trying to get into his head and why?
Willan seized his tunic. "What troubles you?"
"Nothing," Jerret said, afraid to admit the truth (that in all likelihood Tharnin was trying to recruit him). "Just a bad headache."
Jerret nearly had banished the whispers, when he heard Vorden's voice in his thoughts. It was begging him to give in and listen. Jerret hesitated, thinking it was a trick. But Vorden sounded so terrified and helpless that Jerret felt he had to act. He lowered his guard and let the voice take control
An evil laugh filled Jerret's mind. Suddenly, Jerret didn't care about anything except obeying his master. Vorden's voice became a sinister, inhuman-sounding hiss that could never be refused-as if a serpent was close to his ear. It commanded him to strike a blow to Willan.
Willan leaned closer. "I think we should-"
Jerret drove his fist into Willan's head, a perfect blow that knocked the Blue Knight unconscious. It was such a swift and sudden move that even the alert Blue Knight never caught a glimpse of it. He dropped like a stone.
Jerret felt like some force had moved his hand. He gazed down in amazement at Willan's unconscious form. But Vorden's voice insisted he flee the tower, and so Jerret had no time to contemplate what he'd done.
He fled from the Dining Hall, while Vorden's voice warned him that an invisible spy was watching him and he needed to flee with all the speed he possessed. Jerret was athletic and fast to begin with, but some powerful force enhanced his speed as he raced from the tower and into the woods. Moments later, he heard the Divine Alarm sound-a series of horns that blew out from the towers and along the wall that partially encircled the kingdom.
Jerret was astonished at how quickly his crime had been reported. But he also knew it would take sometime for the Knights to organize a search and then carry it out. As he stumbled between the massive Knightwood trees, where the shadows of evening hung thick, Vorden's voice drove him onward.
At last he came to the bank of a small stream. A stone statue of some ancient, heavily armored Knight stood on the opposite bank, covered in moss. This was a spot Jerret was familiar with, as he'd come here to fish during the brief periods of rest between training sessions.
Vorden stepped out from behind the statue. Although the woods were shadowy, with a few bright stars burning in the evening sky, the blue stones in Vorden's gauntlet cast the area in a pale glow. Vorden's eyes gleamed yellow. He grinned at Jerret. "Glad you could make it, my friend."
"Yes, Master Vorden," said Jerret, wanting only to serve.
Vorden frowned. "Enough of that."
The voice departed from Jerret's mind, and he was free. Terror surged through him, and he considered fleeing-but Vorden's stern gaze warned him against it. Instead, he stood trembling, wondering why he'd been summoned.
"Since Dremlock is searching for you," said Vorden, "we don't have a lot of time to talk. So I'll get right to the point. I'm going to be leaving Dremlock this very night. I will be heading far north, to the very edge of Silverland. There, in the frozen peaks of the Bonefrost Mountains, I will join with the Blood Legion in the fortress called Dorok's Hand. So you will tell the Knights that if they want me, I'll be waiting there with an army of Legion Soldiers. If Dremlock doesn't come to me, I will return and I will invade. Do you understand?"